


Breathe

by De_Marvel_Bunny



Series: Whumptober 2019 [19]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety Disorder, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Protective Steve Rogers, Service Dogs, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Whumptober 2019, tony stark has a dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:11:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/De_Marvel_Bunny/pseuds/De_Marvel_Bunny
Summary: Tony Stark struggles with PTSD and anxiety. That's where his dog, Ana, comes in. She helps him through his panic attacks. But when one morning Ana gets sick, Tony is forced to take her to the vet.Steve Rogers, a vet in New York, didn't expect a hot customer this early in the morning.OR,Tony has a cute guide dog, has a panic attack in front of total strangers, Tony and Steve are idiots and Bucky ships it.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kcusllay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcusllay/gifts), [The_Sad_Fangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sad_Fangirl/gifts).

> Italian translations:  
dolcezza= sweetie  
Brava ragazza= good girl
> 
> Translations are all from my dear friend Google Translate.
> 
> Trigger warning: panic attack
> 
> This has not been beta-read, my grammar-checking app gave up on me halfway, and I'm not English so whoops

Steve walked into work with a smile on his face, laughing at the excited barks the dogs made at his entrance. The clinic's resident dog, Dodger, rushed up to greet him, jumping up against him. He greeted all the dogs separately as he did every morning, giving them their respective foods.

"How can you come in here every day with a smile like that?" A voice from behind him mumbled. "Are you ever not in a good mood?"

Steve chuckled, turning around to see his friend and colleague, Clint, look at him in distaste over the rim of his coffee mug.

"Good morning to you too, Clint," he said cheerily. The young man rolled his eyes, mumbling something under his breath before shuffling back out, most likely to refill his cup. Steve shook his head fondly before turning back to the task at hand.

"Good morning, buddy," he cooed at the little puppy they'd rescued the day before. Steve worked in an animal shelter in the center of New York. They took in hundreds of dogs every week, giving them the right treatment before shipping them off to foster houses or adoption centers. Sometimes the animals were adopted in this shelter as many people regularly came by to look at the new dogs, sometimes taking one or two home. It was busy work, something that required Steve to work almost all day, every day of the week. But it was worth it, Steve mused as he watched the puppy blink innocently up at him.

"'sup, punk," a gruff voice sounded from the doorway.

"Hey, jerk," Steve greeted back, looking at his all-time best friend. He and Bucky started this place together, built it up from scratch. Soon, others like Clint and Natasha had joined as they fought to make the place a success. They took in more animals than just dogs, but Steve focused mainly on the dogs- they were why he'd started this place in the beginning. But Natasha kept herself busy with the cats, Clint varying between multiple animals (though he preferred the birds), and Bucky sticking mostly by Steve.

"Ready for today?" Bucky asked as they walked out of the dog rooms and to the lobby. Steve nodded and Bucky switched the old-fashioned open-closed sign to open as he unlocked the door. "Right on time, as always."

"You betcha," Steve said, looking through some files. "We got two dogs and a cat that are being picked up today, the first one around 12 PM. That's the golden retriever with the broken leg."

"Oh, that's Luna, right? Sweet girl."

"Right. And the pit bull around 2 PM, that little ginger cat around 2.30, and the husky between 4 and 5."

Bucky nodded, writing some things down before sticking the note in his pocket. The (also old-fashioned) bell jingled, signaling the entrance of their first customer of the day.

"Well, time to get to work then," Steve commented with a content sigh before turning to meet their customer.

* * *

"Ana," Tony called, walking into his living room with a slight frown. "Ana, are you here?" He got no response and his worry grew. Ana was his service dog and an absolute sweetheart. She always stuck to him like a shadow, a constant grounding presence. He remembered falling asleep last night with the dog snugly against his side. When he'd woke up that morning, however, Ana wasn't there.

"Ana, sweetie, where are you?" He called again, trying not to let panic overtake him. But the longer he searched with no results, the more pressing his anxiety seemed to get. "Ana, please," he pleaded, supporting himself on the couch as his legs suddenly felt weak. His breathing picked up into an erratic rhythm. He knew he was overthinking this, but it was early, he wasn't really awake yet and the fear of that came with losing the one steady presence in his life chased away all sensible thoughts as panic overtook him. He slid down the back of the couch, trying to focus on his breathing. But the room was spinning and the air seemed too big to fit in his lungs as he gasped like a fish on land.

Suddenly, something soft and wet touched his hand. He started, looking up from where he'd been hiding his head in his arms and looking right into the sweet, innocent eyes of his service dog. Something in him relaxed immediately at the familiar sight, his breaths coming a bit easier. Once the room had stopped spinning and his racing mind had calmed, he realized something was wrong.

Usually, when he was in this position, Ana would walk between his legs and push his face up with hers to distract him and to allow him to cling to her if that's what he needed. Now, however, she had merely pushed her snout in his hand, licking his fingers. She hadn't moved besides that.

"Ana?" Tony called softly, his voice dry from his earlier episode. "Are you okay, girl?"

Ana gave a soft whine, laying down flat on the floor, her brown eyes looking up at him.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked softly, petting his dog behind her ears, a spot he knew she liked. Ana gave another whine in response. "Are you sick, _dolcezza_?" Ana whined low in her throat, moving to stand up shakily before dropping herself in his lap. Worry churned in his gut as Tony watched his dog, his anxiety sparking once again. He held her for a moment, speaking to her softly to calm them both down before he got up, getting her some food and water. She turned away from it, whining once again.

"That's it, I'm taking you to the vet," Tony decided out loud, grabbing Ana's leash. He hesitated as he saw her vest before deciding it wasn't necessary, leaving it behind. He walked back to his dog, talking softly to her. He didn't know if he was reassuring her or himself. He picked up his phone to look for the nearest animal shelter, sighing in relief when he saw there was one not too far away.

"Come on, girl," he called softly. "I'm going to take you to the vet now, see what's wrong with you." He felt another spike of panic when Ana didn't respond, quickly deflating when she got up, trotting towards him with her head hung low. He re-evaluated the option of using the vest, especially when he was this trigger-sensitive. Deciding it was better to play it safe he grabbed the vest from its position by the coat rack, quickly and skillfully pulling it on. He put on his coat before rushing out the door.

Tony looked up from his phone and at the animal shelter before looking back down, repeating the action several times before deciding this must be it. It didn't look like much, barely standing out from the other buildings in the street. It looked cozy, but also like it hadn't changed since the forties, looking old-fashioned. When he opened the door, he was surprised to hear a cheery bell ring above his head.

The interior looked like nothing Tony had seen before in an animal shelter. The walls were painted in an easy color, for which he was grateful. It smelled like animals, but in a good way. There were some comfortable looking chairs and a table with magazines and comics in a room to the left, a hallway to the right obviously leading to the dog section of the building, if the loud barking was any indication. Behind the front desk was a tall blond man, who was staring at him in a way that made Tony squirm.

"E-excuse me?" He started. "I- uh, I was wondering if you could help me?"

The other man blinked.

"Oh! Uh- yeah. Yeah, sure," he stammered. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Um, well, I think my dog is sick. She's been acting strange since this morning, and she refused to eat..." he trailed off when he found his breathing pick up, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of the fact that there was something _wrong_ with _his_ dog, and oh, God, he couldn't lose her-

He was vaguely aware of someone talking to him but the sound was muffled as if he was hearing it from underwater- _water. His head being pushed under, hands digging into his arms as they were held behind his back. Shoved down, lungs burning, pulled up long enough for him to spit out the water but not long enough for him to take a deep breath as he was pushed back under, again, and again, and again-_

* * *

Steve didn't know what he'd expected to see when a customer came in at 7.00 in the morning, but a cute, young man with wide, brown eyes and tousled hair was definitely not high on his list of expectations. He'd actually been openly staring until the man stuttered out a polite question.

Now, said man wasn't breathing.

He'd just started explaining what was wrong with his dog when his breathing suddenly picked up, his hand tightening unconsciously on his dog's leash until his knuckles went white. He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing labored. His dog was whining softly beside him.

"Sir?" Steve asked tentatively, feeling more than seeing Bucky move beside him. "Are you okay?"

Bucky had moved from behind the desk, gently holding out his hands.

"Ey, kid?" He called. "Can ya hear me?"

Suddenly, the man's knees buckled. Bucky reached out instinctively to catch him, preventing him from hitting the ground. The man struggled in his hold, his eyes still clenched shut. Soft noises of pure and utter panic emitted from his throat, his arms flailing to fight an enemy that simply wasn't there. His dog walked over to him, whining softly as she nudged the man's face with her nose. Bucky noticed the red vest, recognizing it as one for PTSD. He looked at Steve, who'd kneeled beside him, nodding towards the vest. Steve's mouth twisted in sympathetic recognition.

The man's dog trotted over, pushing the young man into Bucky's hold as she laid herself across his legs, Bucky supposed it was to apply a grounding pressure. It seemed to work as the man's breathing slowed. He bent forward to bury his face in his dog's soft fur, breathing in deeply. Bucky and Steve stayed silent, giving the man some time to regain his bearings. 

After a few minutes, the man sniffed, sitting back up and stroking his dog's head in thanks.

"_B__rava ragazza,_" he said softly. It sounded like he was praising his dog, but Bucky wasn't exactly an expert in Italian. The man dislodged himself from Bucky's hold, ears turning red in embarrassment. "Sorry about that," he said softly, avoiding their eyes.

"Hey, none of that," Steve stopped him immediately, his hand reaching out to touch the brunet's. "I get it, it's scary when there's something wrong with your dog. I get scared too, trust me."

"I just-" the man breathed in shakily. "I can't lose her, I really can't-"

The dog nudged his face with hers, sensing his distress. The young man pet her head in a silent thank you as he took a deep breath to recompose himself.

"Well, hows about we get up off this floor an' fix ya dog, wouldn't you say?" Bucky said, hoping it'd help the man out with his anxiety of the situation. The man nodded in appreciation, awkwardly moving out of his hold. He froze when he realized Steve was still holding onto his hand, and the blond retracted it with a shocked "oh".

Bucky looked on in slight annoyance at the two, a tense atmosphere between them. Oh, he was definitely going to tease Steve about this later. Steve got up a little too quickly to not be awkward, holding out a hand to help the other man up. When the man was standing, Bucky and Steve both noticed the dog moving to lean against his legs, no doubt to avoid her owner falling over by a wave of dizziness. They waited patiently for the young man to stand stable on both feet before Steve politely extended his hand.

"I'm Steve," he said subtly. "We didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves earlier, so..."

"Tony," the man said back, his hand shaking slightly in Steve's. The two idiots stared at each other for an awkwardly long time.

"And I'm Bucky," Bucky chimed in cheerily. "And who's this treasure?" He asked, nodding towards the dog. The man, Tony, smiled softly at his beautiful dog with pride.

"This is Ana," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "She helps me with my PTSD and anxiety, as you just saw." He still looked a bit embarrassed at having broken down in front of two complete strangers. "I- I'm sorry," he apologized in a rush. "It usually isn't _this_ bad but I woke up this morning and she wasn't there and then she started acting out and I'm just-"

"Hey, there's no need to explain yourself to us," Steve interrupted once again. "Now, let's get Ana checked out, hm?" Tony seemed a bit hesitant, but Steve quickly reassured him. "Don't worry, you can come with me."

Tony smiled softly, breathing a soft sigh of relief before he followed Steve to a separate room. Bucky stayed behind, watching them go, shaking his head.

"Well, that was quite something," a feminine voice from behind him said. Bucky laughed at Natasha's words.

"Somethin'? You call that _somethin'_? Well, that's quite the understatement."

"I agree with snowflakes," Clint butted in as he walked into the room. Bucky was surprised he hadn't dropped out of the ceiling vents. "There was a _lot_ going on there. And I'm not just talking about the panic attack. I mean, that was _chemistry_."

"You guys thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Bucky asked, grinning slyly.

"That we should totally get some donuts?" Clint asked, idiotically hopeful. Bucky ignored him.

"How would you guys feel about a new mission?"

Natasha grinned, a plan already forming in her head.

"Operation wingmen is ago," Clint said dramatically. Bucky and Natasha smirked, watching through the window as Tony laughed at something Steve said, looking far more comfortable than he had since he'd walked in.

"Let's get these two idiots to fall in love. Nat, find out where Cute Brunet lives. Clint, get yourself a donut 'cause I don't wanna hear you whine for it again. Then, plan a date, one that's romantic but not too much. I'll find a good spot in Steve's schedule and make sure they have each other's numbers. Go."

Everyone immediately went their separate ways and Bucky smiled.

"Time t' get ya head out of your ass, punk. You're dating that kid."

Smiling to himself, he got set on Steve's schedule. Through the glass window, he made brief eye contact with Ana. She winked at him. He smiled. She was on board.

**Author's Note:**

> The hardest thing about a fic is the ending I swear.


End file.
